


First Choice

by infiniteeight



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Peter Hale, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Barebacking, But That Doesn't Mean Anything, Knotting, M/M, Not a dystopia, Omega Stiles Stilinski, Stiles Stilinski is Eighteen Years Old, The alphas Stiles interviews are a mix of canon and OC characters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:14:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23242330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/infiniteeight/pseuds/infiniteeight
Summary: Stiles has been looking forward to his Choosing, when he gets to pick out his first alpha mate, for years. Somehow, it goes even better than he hoped for.
Relationships: Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 43
Kudos: 1167





	First Choice

**Author's Note:**

> I have read, and loved, many A/B/O fics in which the omega being forced to choose a mate at some set age is a terrible thing and the story is all about making it work somehow. (Or not.) I enjoyed those stories very much! But my muse is a contrary thing, so after reading enough "choosing a mate is awful" stories, my brain decided I needed to write "choosing a mate is amazing and wonderful".
> 
> In this universe the choosing is a biological necessity (not a cultural thing) and I've done my best to set up a bureaucratic structure around this process that makes it clear that the omega's comfort, preferences, and needs are paramount. 
> 
> That said, I can see how, no matter how well managed, being required to pick a sexual partner in order to maintain one's physical health could be a trigger. If that is the case, you'll want to give this story a pass.

Stiles is so excited he literally can’t sit still. He’s been waiting for this day for literal _years_. He’d wanted to schedule his Choosing for the day of his eighteenth birthday, but his dad had snorted and said, “If you have your Choosing on the day, the rest of the school year is going to be a loss. You can wait for graduation.” Waiting the extra months had been _torture_ , but Stiles has to admit that it’s good to know that if he and his alpha (his alpha!) want to just hole up for a week, they can.

“Mieczysław Stilinski?”

Stiles bounces out of his seat in the waiting room and beams at the woman who called his name. She’s wearing dark slacks and a pale blue shirt, not a suit, which he likes. “That’s me!” Stiles holds out his hand to shake. “You even pronounced it correctly. I’m impressed, most people can’t. I go by Stiles.”

“I’m Amanda Berry,” she says, smiling back at him. “I’ll be your Choosing counselor. Would you rather I used Mieczysław or Stiles? My job is to make sure you’re comfortable.”

“Stiles, thanks,” he says. It’s nice to hear his name said right, but he thinks of himself as Stiles, mostly. Amanda turns, tilting her head for him to follow, and together they head down a hallway and into a conference room. “Are people usually uncomfortable?” He can’t imagine that. 

“Sometimes,” Amanda says. “Not everyone feels ready for their Choosing. I thought you might be nervous--you applied for a delay past your birthday.”

Stiles laughs as they settle into their seats, side by side on one of the long edges of a conference table. “That was my dad. He didn’t want me distracted from finishing school. I’ve been counting down the days for _ages_.”

“I’m glad,” Amanda smiles and lays the folder she’s holding down on the table. “It’s always fun to be here for the excited ones.”

“So what comes next?” Stiles asks, fighting not to squirm in his seat. He can’t resist doing a quick drumbeat. “Do I get to meet the alphas?”

There’s laughter in Amanda’s voice when she replies, “We have to go over a few things first.” 

Stiles groans. “Can’t we skip this part? I have researched this into the ground, I promise.”

“Sorry, the law says I have to,” Amanda says, but she sounds teasing more than apologetic. “But I can do the quick version. As an omega, you biologically require an alpha mate, or you are at risk of a whole list,” she takes a piece of paper out of the file and waves it, “of hormonal disorders. Do you understand?” Stiles waves for her to go on, but her voice takes on an _actual_ apologetic note, “I need a verbal confirmation.”

“I understand,” Stiles says quickly.

“By law, your first alpha mate will be a one year contract, and you must be on birth control for the full duration. Do you understand?”

“Yup, no problem, got an implant,” Stiles confirms.

Amanda smiles at him. “I have your implant on file. You provided a profile to our matching service, and based on that profile several alphas have applied to be your first mate. However, if you’ve since found another alpha that you’d prefer, you’re welcome to register them now. Will you be meeting the applicants?”

“Yes, please!” Stiles had not been popular in school. Just the idea that _several_ alphas wanted to be his mate made him flush hot with excitement. It was probably a good thing that Amanda was a beta, he had to be putting out some heavy pheromones.

“One more thing,” Amanda says, laughing when Stiles groans. “If you don’t like any of the applicants, you’re welcome to adjust your profile and schedule new interviews. It may be helpful to change locations for that, although some alphas will be willing to travel.”

Stiles nodded. “Okay, got it, meetings now?” 

“I’ll go get the candidates,” Amanda says, and laughs again when Stiles fist pumps.

When she returns, six alphas file into the room after her. Stiles feels hot all over, and he wonders if his hormones are making all alphas look like sex on legs or if he’s just really fucking lucky. Stiles actually knows two of them--Erica is in his year at school and Jordan is one of his dad’s deputies. Erica had kept to herself right up until senior year, when she’d gotten on better medication for her epilepsy. He’s surprised to see Jordan and can’t help wondering if his dad knows he’s here. The other four are new to him. One other female alpha, Sarah, and three male alphas, Deucalion, Peter, and Eddie.

They have a brief group interview first. Amanda leads it, making sure that everyone gets a chance to talk and that certain subjects are covered, stuff like family dynamics. After that she sends them all out and has Stiles choose the order for the individual interviews.

He rules Erica out pretty early. It just feels weird to do this with her when they hardly spoke in school. He can’t stop thinking about his dad while talking to Jordan, which kills that option pretty quick, too. Sarah, Eddie, and Deucalion are all possibilities, but Stiles can’t deny that his excitement goes up a notch when Amanda calls Peter in.

All of the alphas are gorgeous, but Peter is in a class by himself. Stiles can’t help the way his eyes linger on the man’s thick neck, his broad hands, his brilliant blue eyes. Peter smirks as he seats himself and drawls, “Saving the best for last?”

“Confident, are you? How do you know I didn’t call my favorites in first?” Stiles asks, half teasing, half curious.

“You were visibly awkward with both Erica and Jordan in the group interview,” Peter says calmly. “And while you checked out all of us, you glanced back at Eddie and myself far more often than the others. I’m guessing that’s because we’re physically the strongest.” He lowered his voice a little, holding Stiles’s gaze with his own. “Do you like the idea of having a powerful alpha, Stiles?”

“Hell, yeah, I do,” Stiles says, unashamed. Eddie had noticed his attention, too, but he’d been kind of a dick about it, practically assuming that won him the interview all by itself. Happily, Peter seemed more interested in what _Stiles_ liked than in congratulating himself on his physical superiority. Stiles wasn’t going to take anything for granted, though. “But!” He held up a finger. “I also want to be able to talk to you. So we’ve got a few subjects to cover.”

Peter isn’t familiar with the Marvel versus DC debate, but instead of smiling and nodding, like Sarah, or offering to learn and then changing the subject, like Deucalion, he draws out Stiles’s opinions and then expertly plays devil’s advocate. They find unexpected common ground in Peter’s work--he teaches Classics, and Stiles is planning to study mythology and folklore. There’s enough overlap that they go down a rabbit hole of discussion that Amanda has to gently extract them from, given that the interviews are time limited.

Stiles is having fun talking to Peter, but it’s the last set of questions that are the real test. He braces himself to throw them out there like the challenge they are. It had been easy with the others, but with Peter Stiles really wants to get the right answers back. “Fifteen minutes, Stiles,” Amanday reminds him. 

Showtime.

Stiles nods firmly. “Right.” Peter meets his gaze with a confident smirk. That makes it easier for Stiles to lob out the first question: “So how often do you expect us to have sex?”

Peter’s eyes flash and his tongue flicks out to wet his lips. “It’s not about what I _expect_ ,” he says. “It’s about what both of us want. What we’re in the mood for. There will probably be stretches of time where we aren’t intimate at all, just like there will be times when we can’t keep our hands off each other.”

“Nice,” Stiles says, pleased. It’s not what he expected, and it’s far better than any of the answers the others had given.

“Next question?” Peter prompts smugly. 

Stiles jumps ahead a couple in the queue just to see if he can put a dent in that smugness. “I might be an omega, but I still have a dick,” he says, leaning towards Peter over the table, “and I’d like to try it out, too. Would you be willing to bottom sometimes?” This was where Deucalion had disappointed him. His answer had been a reluctant but firm no. 

Peter leans toward Stiles. “That largely depends on the size of your cock.”

“Excuse me?” Stiles blurts.

“The size of your cock,” Peter repeats, eyes sparkling. Stiles can feel his face heat. “I’ve bottomed for a number of partners. Even with a lot of preparation, I find large cocks uncomfortable rather than enjoyable. Average size I’ll tolerate if a partner insists, though I wouldn’t volunteer. But,” Peter lowers his voice and Stiles finds himself holding his breath, “the sensation of a slender, gentle omega cock stroking me from the inside can be exquisite.”

“Fuck, yes,” Stiles says, breathless. He’s half hard, and his hole is starting to throb. He’s going to start leaking slick if Peter keeps this up.

“Did you have more questions, Stiles?” Peter prompts. His nostrils flare, and Stiles only gets hotter at the knowledge that Peter can smell just how turned on he is.

Stiles blinks, struggling to remember his other questions. “Um. Yeah. Oral?”

“Yes, both giving and receiving.”

“Letting me call the shots?”

“Not a turn on, but I’m willing to indulge you,” Peter says easily. 

Stiles licks his lips. “Heat sex?” Some omegas take a suppressant with their birth control and only go through heats when medically required, but Stiles wants his.

Peter’s eyes darken. “Is an immense pleasure, but only if we’re both eager and prepared.” His lips twist wryly. “I have assisted with an unexpected heat and it is not anything like porn would have you believe.”

Stiles laughs, then has to swallow his amusement for the next question. “Any hard limits I should know about?”

Peter’s eyebrows go up, but then he smiles. “Thank you for asking. None that I’m aware of, but we might run into one if we get experimental. I’ll let you know.”

“Communication is key,” Stiles agrees. “Last question, and it’s important.” Peter nods and waits. Stiles looks him right in the eye. “I know that first mate contracts only last a year, and I get why, it’s a good idea. But I also know that I tend to get attached to people, and there’s no way I’m not going to get attached to someone I’m sleeping with. I’m not _expecting_ anything, but I’d like it if you were open to the idea of a second contract, after. Basically, just…” Stiles blows out a harsh breath and hopes he isn’t sinking this before it starts. “If you know that you definitely only want to have some fun for a year, then it’s probably better if I pick someone else.”

“Stiles,” Peter says intently, leaning forward. “I’ve never applied to be a first mate before. The temporary nature of the relationship made the idea… unappealing. I only saw your profile because my niece was looking through the database and I…” he breaks off, a hint of a blush actually touching his cheeks. It makes Stiles wonder what Peter had done on seeing his profile. “Well, I decided I had to at least meet you. So yes, I am quite open to the possibility of a second contract.”

“Awesome,” Stiles says, beaming. He turns to Amanda. “I’m ready to make my decision.”

She shakes her head. “You’re supposed to wait until we’re alone.”

“I didn’t say anything!” Stiles protests.

“I’ll just excuse myself, shall I?” Peter says, smirking.

With the interviews completed all that’s left is the paperwork and the cooling off period. Stiles groans and lays his head down on the conference room table when Amanda reminds him that he has to wait 24 hours before he and Peter are permitted to meet in uncontrolled, unchaperoned circumstances. The cooling off period exists for a reason, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t _suck_.

By the time the text message with Peter’s contact information arrives, confirming that they’re okay to meet, Stiles is pretty sure his dad is ten seconds from strangling him. Stiles is so eager to punch the number into his phone that he fumbles it the first time. His phone rings before he gets through a second try, the caller ID showing the exact number he was attempting. Stiles grins at the evidence of Peter’s matching eagerness. He picks up and says, “Your place or mine?” ignoring his dad groaning in the background.

“Mine,” Peter says. “Or a hotel, if you prefer.”

“Yours,” Stiles says quickly. A hotel would feel impersonal, on top of which he doesn’t want to think about warding off housekeeping or when they need to check out.

“I’ll text you the address,” Peters says, and hangs up. The abruptness doesn’t bother Stiles at all—he knows exactly how Peter is feeling. He’s already scooped up his bag and made it halfway out the door before the address comes through, belatedly calling a goodbye back to his dad.

Peter answers his door so quickly that he must have been waiting next to it, but despite their mutual urgency there’s a moment after Peter shuts the door behind Stiles when time feels suspended. They stare at each other and Stiles knows that if he were being respectable about this they’d talk for awhile, get to know each other, maybe go on a date. It’s not like he’s going to get sick instantly, and people are always telling omegas to be careful with their first mating.

But Peter is right here, and he’s so goddamned gorgeous, and he _smells good_ and he _wants_ Stiles.

“Fuck it,” Stiles says, dropping his bag, and throws himself at Peter.

Fortunately, Peter catches him. He even goes with the movement just enough that their mouths don’t clack together in a painful collision of teeth. Instead, they plunge straight into a hot, deep kiss. It’s not quite Stiles’ first kiss, but he’s never had one like this. He hangs onto Peter as it goes on, heat lighting up his body like someone flipped a switch somewhere. Peter’s hands are on Stiles’ ass and his scent is getting stronger, spicier.

After a minute Peter pulls back, or tries to. Stiles makes a protesting noise and follows him, stealing another kiss before Peter manages to separate their mouths.

“Bedroom,” the alpha says, voice low and rough.

“Right,” Stiles says. He feels flushed all over. “Lead the way.”

Peter has to physically move Stiles’ arms from where they’re wrapped around him, but he keeps hold of one of his hands, leading Stiles deeper into his apartment. Later, Stiles will look around, but right now he’s hyper-focused on the alpha. Stiles drinks in the heat of his hand and the sight of ass flexing as he walks, drags his eyes back up to admire his neck and the biceps that fill out his shirt beautifully.

By the time they step into the bedroom, Stiles is already getting wet. Peter stops at the end of the bed and turns, nostrils flaring, and yanks Stiles into his arms again. “The _scent_ of you,” he groans before claiming Stiles’ mouth.

Stiles wraps his arms around Peter and rubs himself shamelessly against the alpha even as he sucks on Peter’s tongue. The heat racing through Stiles’ veins and the slick leaking from his ass almost overwhelm the ache of his cock, but grinding against Peter sure brings it back into the fun. Peter’s not ignoring it, either: he presses a thigh between Stiles’ legs, somehow at the perfect angle to ride it, and it’s so good that Stiles has to break the kiss to gasp for breath and let out a sharp cry of pleasure.

God knows how much time Stiles spends grinding on Peter’s thigh while Peter squeezes his ass and sucks marks into his throat. All he knows is that tight feeling is starting to wind up in his belly, and no matter how good this is he doesn’t want to come before they even get naked. He has to tug Peter away from his neck by the hair and the sight of him--flushed, pupils blown, hair a wild mess--almost breaks Stiles’ resolve. Almost, but not quite. “Clothes,” he manages. “Off.”

“Right.” Peter sounds as wrecked as Stiles feels. He grabs Stiles’ shirt by the hem and tugs it off over his head, tossing it aside, but instead of going for the pants next he reaches out to run his hands over the freshly exposed skin. 

Stiles goes for Peter’s shirt while he’s distracted, but the sadist is wearing something with _buttons_. Buttons! Stiles manages to fumble two of them open before cursing in frustration. “This is your own fault,” he says, and just yanks the damn thing open. The remaining buttons go flying. One of them hits Stiles right on the cheek before falling to the floor with a plastic _ping_. Stiles jerks his eyes up to check Peter’s reaction and their gazes lock.

For a moment they’re both still. Then Peter starts laughing, hard enough that he rests his hands on Stiles’ hips and puts his head down on his shoulder. It takes Stiles a minute, but eventually he starts laughing, too. When they’ve calmed to snickering, Stiles says, “Somehow, I never would have expected that tearing your clothes off would _break_ the mood.”

Peter lifts his head and shoots Stiles a wicked smile as he shakes off the remains of the shirt. “Oh, it’s not broken.” He puts his hands on Stiles’ ass and pulls him in close and _fuck_ he’s still hard, they both are, but Peter’s cock is _throbbing_ where it’s straining against his jeans. 

Stiles licks his lips. “Can I see?”

Peter’s answer is to step back and reach for the fly of his pants. Stiles watches, transfixed, as he slowly slips the button free and draws the fly down. Stiles groans, because the arch of Peter’s cock pressing against the black boxer briefs he’s wearing is the worst kind of tease. The jeans are kicked aside and then Peter is hooking his thumbs into his underwear, pushing it down one tantalizing inch at a time. His cock, when it finally springs free, is totally worth the reveal. Stiles might not have much experience with cocks outside of porn, but apparently he knows what he likes because it feels like his whole body clenches eagerly at the sight of Peter’s. It’s long and thick, bigger than Stiles’ toys, with a gorgeous dark flush and a ridge at the base that Stiles can easily imagine swelling up a lot bigger. His hole flexes, slick squirting between his cheeks.

“Your turn,” Peter says. He reaches down and gives himself a slow stroke. Stiles makes a choked noise.

Like hell he’s going to be able to make stripping sexy, so Stiles just sheds the rest of his clothes as quickly as he can. His cock is a lot smaller, of course, but Peter licks his lips and murmurs, “Beautiful,” and Stiles remembers _slender, gentle omega cock_ and throbs.

Next time, maybe. Right now, he’s got slick running down his thighs and a hell of a lot of fantasies to fulfill. So Stiles steps past Peter and climbs up onto the bed, then turns over and props himself up on his elbows, legs spread invitingly. “Coming?”

“Not yet,” Peter says, smirking, but he’s already crawling in between Stiles’ legs. Stiles lays flat on the bed with Peter on hands and knees above him and reaches up to slide his hands into Peter’s hair, pulling him down for a kiss. As good as all the other kisses were, this one manages to be more intense, more charged, no matter that it’s slower. Stiles hangs onto Peter and loses himself in it, just lets the pulse of need and the thick, spicy scent of Peter drag him under. 

When Peter eventually pulls back, Stiles murmurs, “I’m ready,” against his mouth. 

Peter doesn’t tease, not this time, just shifts his weight so that he can reach down and steady himself. His hips press Stiles’s thighs wider, and then the hot, blunt head of his cock is pressing into Stiles’ hole. 

Stiles is so wet that Peter spreads him open and eases inside smoothly. There’s no pain, just a delicious stretch as Peter’s cock slides deeper, inch after inch of the thick shaft sinking into him. Stiles moans, low and rough. It’s _so much better_ than a toy. The heat, the throb, the glorious feeling of _skin_. Peter feels so good when he’s fully buried that Stiles almost doesn’t want him to move, but it isn’t up to him, and thank God, because Peter’s first thrust tears a shout from Stiles, his hips jerking involuntarily up into the movement. Pleasure arcs through him like lightning, except this is no one time strike, this is a new bolt every time Peter fucks back into him.

“Oh, God,” Stiles pants desperately, clutching at Peter. “Oh, fuck, please, Peter--”

“I’ve got you.” Peter’s voice is so rough it’s almost broken. His hips snap forward, driving his cock hard into Stiles, who bucks up into the motion. “I’ve got you, you’re _mine_.”

Stiles cries out, heels digging into the bed as he strains to meet Peter’s driving thrusts. “Yes, _yes_ , fuck, _more_ ,” he begs, even though it doesn’t seem like there can _be_ more, there’s so much already, it’s so good, Peter filling him up over and over again.

And then he feels it, pressing against his rim when Peter fucks his cock in next. A swelling at the base of Peter’s cock. His knot. It bumps against his stretched, slick rim again and again and Stiles _wants_ it. He slides a hand up to the back of Peter’s neck and squeezes until the alpha shudders to halt, buried deep, knot pressed against him. “Stiles?” Peter manages breathlessly.

“Give me your knot,” Stiles demands. 

“It’s not full yet,” Peter says, but his hips stutter, enough that Stiles’ rim _almost_ gives way for it.

Who says you have to _wait_ for a knot? “So fuck me with it until it is.”

Peter groans and kisses Stiles once, hard, before bracing himself and pushing. There’s a moment of resistance and then Stiles’ body gives way and _takes_ it. Stiles can’t think through the overwhelming rush of _yes good complete full taken_. When Peter withdraws the loss of it almost hurts, but then he fucks his knot right back into Stiles and it’s somehow even better. Stiles feels like he’s swinging between aching need and total, blissful fulfillment, and every swing takes him up higher. He can _feel_ the peak coming, his body primed for it.

Peter fucks him hard, driving his knot past Stiles’ rim again and again until a shudder wracks his body and, with one final, hard thrust, he buries himself and goes still. His knot swells the rest of the way all at once, tearing a cry from Peter as it locks them together. Stiles’ body responds, clamping down on him, and together they tip over into orgasm, shaking with the intensity of the climax. 

Knotting face to face is unavoidably awkward, but Stiles braces his legs and Peter leans against them and they manage. Neither of them speak, but Peter strokes Stiles’ belly softly for a while, and when his hand stills Stiles tangles their fingers together. 

When his knot finally subsides Peter withdraws carefully and goes to the bathroom for a wash cloth. He cleans both of them up and then gets back into bed next to Stiles and pulls him into his arms. Stiles goes happily, only wincing a little as he turns onto his side and curls in close. “That was incredible,” he says, resting his head on Peter’s shoulder.

“It really was.” Peter’s voice is full of lazy satisfaction.

Still, Stiles pulls away a bit so he can look Peter in the eye. “Really? I mean, it was my first time, I get it if there’s room for improvement.”

Peter turns onto his side so that they’re facing each other properly. “Whether or not there’s room for improvement, that was one of the best sexual experiences of my life,” Peter insists. He reaches out and brushes a thumb over Stiles’ lips. “Well worth the wait.”

Stiles raises an eyebrow. “I get the feeling you mean more than the cooling off period.”

Peter snorts, dropping his hand. “You’d be right. I found your profile four months ago and put in my offer immediately. My family has been insufferable while I’ve been waiting for your interviews to be scheduled.”

“Oh?” Stiles’ curiosity is piqued now. “Does this have anything to do with why you were embarrassed when you mentioned finding my profile in the interview?”

Peter flops onto his back and covers his face with a hand. “Of course I reminded you of that.”

Stiles grins. “Oh, this is getting better and better. Come on, spill. You know if you don’t, I’ll hear it from your family eventually.”

Peter uncovers his face and looks over at Stiles. “My niece, Cora, was sitting on the couch, browsing the database on her tablet,” he begins. “I was walking by and I just glanced over her shoulder and spotted your profile. I… may have lunged over the back of the couch so hard I knocked the tablet out of her hands.” He pauses, then admits, “Getting hung up halfway over the couch back wasn’t too graceful, either.”

Stiles laughs in delight and pats Peter’s chest in an attempt to be reassuring. “That’s amazing. But what the hell was so great about my profile? I mean, you couldn’t have seen much just walking by.”

“It was your expression in the profile picture,” Peter says, covering Stiles’ hand with his own and rubbing his thumb over the back of it. “It’s normal for omegas to look nervous. Sometimes they’re excited, or trying to play it cool. But you… You stared out of that picture like a challenge, like you were saying, ‘You think you can handle me? Let’s see you try.’”

Stiles smirks. That’s pretty much exactly what he’d been thinking when the photo was taken. “Well, you handled me pretty well.” He waggles his eyebrows. “ _This_ time. Can’t get complacent with me, you know.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Peter purrs, stroking a hand slowly down Stiles’ flank.

Stiles suppresses a shiver. 

_Damn_ but he’d Chosen well.

~End~


End file.
